The bowl of red, lumpy liquid gave off a putrid stench. Cook stood by the wall, rubbing his palms in delight. In response, Kryer offered a meek smile- the most he could manage while holding back the urge to grit his teeth in pain. “… What is this, again? Kimchi?”

He winced as he raised his fork. He'd seen kimchi before. Images of it. Coming out of restaurants that stank. 'Human Delicacy' made of spicy plants purposely left to rot. Disgusting on its own. But it didn't look like this. Not at all. Deep in the bowl was the shredded remains of some synthetic meat. “Cook... This is way too much sauce.” As he opened his mouth, the urge to gag, lurking somewhere inside, revealed itself in force. “I gotta get outta here, Cook. I'm sorry, I can't.” Kryer bolted away from the table, heading for scent safety in the bay.

Dalen watched in silence from his perch in the ceiling pipework, specifically selected for its view of the door and what lay beyond it. Kryer was moving quickly from the ship's typical eating area, plainly a bit put-off by whatever Cook had been making this time. Frankly, he was surprised Kryer could eat anything Cook made at all, given the turian biological makeup, but then again, as a general rule, Kryer did whatever the hell he wanted to do. He could probably stomach just about anything.

But, since he was no longer eating, that made this the optimal time to speak with him. At least once he was close enough to get the drop on.

“Dammit... What kind of putrid slop do those people eat?” Kryer resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He tapped the control pad to the bay access door, and walked through at an angle as it slid open. Quickly, he tapped the opposite pressure plate. The door closed again, reversing the cycle before it had completed. Stench in the bay was minimal. He didn't really want to turn the fans on. White noise. But the immediate concern was dealt with. He sighed in relief.

Hm. Apparently the food had been worse than normal. Dalen had never had that much of a problem with it, tending to eat just about anything to ensure sufficient caloric intake. But even he could tell that Cook was... well, a bit too willing to experiment with recipes. He was all for experimentation, of course, but food creation was one of those things that it was typically best to stick to the tried-and-true baseline. Ensured maximum edibility.

But, in any case, Kryer was in the bay and the door was closed, which meant that now was the optimal time to approach him.

Scuttling silently across the pipes to hang directly above the turian, he dropped just as quietly, landing on the floor behind Kryer with barely even a sound. "Hey, Kryer," he said, announcing himself, "Wanted to ask you something. Busy?"

Kryer's hand was on his knife by the second syllable. Luckily, this coincided exactly with the time it took for his head to process the voice. He propped up on his heel and lazily spun to face Dalen. He glared at the Salarian with wide eyes and flared mandibles. He clenched a fist as he spoke. “Explain yourself.”

Dalen's eyes widened for one brief moment at Kryer's expression. "Startled you? Apologies. Not primary intention." He shrugged, completely nonchalant once again. "Actually came to ask if would be willing to spar with me. But if busy can ask Gar or something."

“Maybe I'm a biotic too, because I just had this urge to break you in half a second ago. Maybe it was a prediction of the future..? … No, Jay'll be pissed. Listen. You're too wiry.”

"No reason for captain to be upset. Sparring completely reasonable activity!" Dalen absently scratched at the implant at the base of his skull. "Also, biotics not clairvoyant. Can't read minds, either, regardless of human preconception." Letting his hand drop, he shrugged his bony shoulders. "What does wiry have to do with anything?"

“Everything. Either you use some kind of power on me right off the bat, or you actually try and 'flow like the river'. I can hurt you. And I'm not very good at friendly fighting. ” Kryer slid to the side- towards the ramp that led into the bay proper. “ Gar will probably tell you something similar, but I think you might be able to get away with technique on him.”

An eye ridge rose. "Not worth practicing if not going to go all out. Can take the amp out if it bothers you though."

Kryer cocked his head. “Listen... It's not that I'm worried I'm gonna kill you. And it's not that I'm worried you're gonna tear out my ribcage or something. It's more that when I hit you, and I will, it’s got a good chance of doing some real damage. I know how to hurt people. That's all.”

The salarian twisted his neck, a few cracks snapping out. "Own fault if get hurt. And can take a hit better than you think."

“Okay then. As long as you're serious, I don't mind.”

Kryer padded down the ramp, walking to a point roughly in the center of the mostly empty bay. “Right then.” Kryer dipped slightly, turning ninety degrees and pointing his left elbow at the Salarian, his right arm pulled back in a tighter, but also loose bend. “Come on, then.”

Dalen smiled. "Yes. Excellent," he said, nodding enthusiastically as he took several paces backwards, putting about half the length of the cargo bay between himself and Kryer. Settling into a loose, slightly bouncing stance, he closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and opened them again.

With that, he broke into a sudden sprint, closing about half the distance between himself and his opponent before leaping into the air. He swung a leg up, aligning into a flying kick at Kryer's head. His arms had moved to one of his mnemonic positions, creating a mass effect field that flung him forward in space, accelerating the kick even once his feet had already left the ground.

Dalen's boot was growing larger in his vision. Kryer swung his right fist upwards, hard, and made contact with the side of the Salarian's boot, following through as best he could while dropping low. His left fist swung in a wide hook upwards.

The first punch broke Dalen's alignment, sending his feet towards the ceiling. Spotting the second on the way, he stiffened his body, grabbed ahold of Kryer's fist, and braced himself against it, allowing the turian's strength to carry him upwards. Releasing it as it reached the top of its swing, he sailed cleanly over Kryer's head, righting himself into a slow-sinking landing on the other side.

There. His first pass was done. He'd let Kryer throw the next blow.

That was admittedly unexpected. Kryer was a quick turner. Years of practice. He wheeled to face Dalen, a grin on his face. This was gonna be fun. The turian charged. Dalen was going to hurt whenever he had to absorb some of the force. The trick would be chipping away as heavily as he could. Kryer was certain he had more stamina. As he neared, Kryer wheeled his legs into the air- spinning his waist around as the lower half of his body cartwheeled. He landed a meter away from the Salarian- grinning widely as he burst upwards, transferring the force generated by his rotation upwards. Kryer tucked in as he rotated in midair- kicking out with his right heel with all the burst of energy he could muster.

Dalen swung his arms up in front of him, bringing up a biotic barrier just barely in time to take the kick instead of his chest. Kryer plainly wasn't pulling any punches. That was good. It had been too long since he'd actually had a challenge in a fight. Once the kick landed on the barrier, he dropped it and ducked to one side, rolling around to attempt to get up behind the turian once more - and hoping the sudden lack of force against his leg would knock him off balance.